Manic Pixie Dream Boy
by Snow Glows Blue
Summary: In which not all Noldor are stately and wise, not all Galadhrim are haughty and arrogant, not all Sindar are icy and hard to please, and not all Silvans are flighty and impractical. (Celeborn/Thranduil, Galion/Thranduil, Legolas/Gimli)
1. Manic Pixie Dream Boy 1

They're just outside the palace in Lindon. Celeborn, Prince of Doriath, is not quite sure what to do with Thranduil, the son of a Lindon noble. He doesn't seem anything like the elves of Doriath. Celeborn isn't quite sure he's anything like the elves of Lindon either.

But their fathers dumped them together and told them to get along, so Celeborn is polite. "Hello, he says. "My name is Celeborn, son of Celebros, Prince of Doriath." He keeps his voice polite with a touch of friendliness, shutting emotion out; it's his Diplomat Voice. Impenetrable as mithril walls, exactly how he likes it.

"I'm Thranduil," the smaller boy chirps, "you already know my father's name," and Celeborn does, it's Oropher, but hasn't this elf learned manners? "and I'm not the Prince of anything," like Celeborn didn't know that. Thranduil's voice is oddly high-pitched, like a young child's, and he speaks very quickly.

Celeborn is silent: if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. Thranduil is looking at him as if he's very odd, but Celeborn is polite enough not to do the same.

"So what do you enjoy?" Thranduil asks. It takes Celeborn a moment to realize that he doesn't know.

But that sounds pathetic, so he scrounges up something different to say. "I sit on councils a lot. Politics is interesting."

Thranduil nods thoughtfully, but he's staring out at the courtyard. "I'm sure it is. But that wasn't my question. What do you enjoy? What do you do when nobody tells you to?"

That's the thing. Celeborn devotes his spare time to studying, and he has no idea what he'd do if he had no obligations. He doesn't say as much, but the distinctly unregal manner in which his shoulders curl forward communicates the thought.

What is wrong with him? Every wall Celeborn has put up, built to withstand the harshest of emotional storms, is crumbling down with no more than a push from this strange, small, pixie-like boy. They haven't yet spent ten minutes together and Celeborn has shown Thranduil more of himself than he's shown people he's known for centuries.

"I don't know," he finally says, because he feels more in control if he says it than if he lets Thranduil guess.

"That's sad." Quiet and solemn, things he hadn't thought Thranduil could be, but simply put and simply worded. It captures him perfectly.

He'd never thought of it that way: lessons are interesting, duties are necessary, tutoring his cousin in history was his own idea, and studying is a quiet escape.

But now that Thranduil's said it - yes. It is sad that he has no idea what it is that he loves.

They're quiet. Celeborn studies his shoes.

"You're beautiful, did you know?" Thranduil says this conversationally, as if it's nothing odd.

Celeborn looks up, surprised. "No, I'm not." If anything, Thranduil is beautiful, with his slender frame and delicate features and golden hair and eyes that don't hold any particular color, only light. Celeborn is broader, with dull white hair and eyes an uncomplicated blue.

And he is not beautiful - at least, Celeborn has never thought of himself as such.

"Yes," Thranduil says impatiently, "you are. Now stop it and look at me."

Celeborn isn't sure what is meant by 'it,' but he is more than happy to look up at Thranduil.

The pixie places a hand on the back of his neck, pulls him forward, and kisses him. Celeborn's hands shoot to Thranduil's hips, holding him closer as he returns the kiss eagerly.

When they seperate, Thranduil is panting. His smile is just as beautiful as the rest of him.

"Want to go have an adventure?" he asks.

Celeborn smiles back. "I'd love to," he says, and starts running.


	2. Of Gold, of copper, and of light 1

Galion isn't sure what he was expecting from the Prince, but this wasn't it.

He's small, for one, a good six inches shorter than Galion himself, and though he hasn't spoken with Prince Thranduil yet, he has heard the Prince's voice: quiet and high-pitched, and very fast.

He does cartwheels in the halls, jumps from branch to branch, and seems to have enchanted everybody in the Greenwood. Galion isn't so sure.

When he finally meets Thranduil for the first time, he's struck by how Silvan he looks. The Prince's hair is Sindar golden, rather than the autumn reds of his subjects, but he is slight of figure and even smaller than he seems from a distance.

"Thranduil. Son of Oropher. Pleased to meet you."

Nothing that Galion wasn't expecting — except that, judging by the way his eyes shine, the Prince truly is pleased to meet him.

He knows what he was expecting now, or at least, he has a better idea of it: an icy cold Sindarin royal, haughty and arrogant, who had the very best of manners but no kindness in him.

Thranduil is as far from that image as it's possible to be.

Galion could love this Sindar prince.


	3. Manic Pixie Dream Boy 2

Their welcome into the Greenwood is warm but not grand. His councillor Silinde and The Boys seem surprised by this, but Celeborn isn't; Thranduil never treats guests like they're visiting diplomats, even when they actually are visiting diplomats, and Celeborn especially has always been greeted as a friend.

Galion's smile is warm and infectious, and Celeborn can't help but smile back. "Welcome," the Silvan says quietly, the words clearly meant for him alone. "Our King has missed you."

"I have missed him too," Celeborn says in the same tone, and knows it's a vast understatement.

Thranduil is almost as Celeborn remembers him.

He remembers a small, smiling child, and sees a small, smiling adult. He remembers wide, shining eyes and a bright voice, and he sees eyes that still do shine.

But the Thranduil that Celeborn remembers would have thrown his arms around his friend, would have stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, would have dragged him off on some Wacky Adventure (tm) and never let him go.

And this Thranduil — doesn't.

Instead he restrains himself to that warm, open smile and an outstretched hand. Celeborn swallows his fear for his friend and presses his wrist to Thranduil's, smiling back and going through the proper greetings that Thranduil would normally have no patience for.

They're together, at least for a while. Celeborn will talk to him.

Before they next see the elves of the Greenwood, Celeborn talks to the older of The Boys.

Well, really he talks to both of The Boys, as they're unseperable. But the one who appears older also seems to be the more confident of them, so he speaks mainly to him.

"Do you and your brother have names?" Celeborn asks. He pitches his voice low and soft, and he's sitting with them on the floor, but the younger one curls in on himself and moves away from him anyway.

The older pauses, and shakes his head.

Well, I suppose talking was too much to hope for.

"All right. Is there anything you'd like to go by, for now?" This time, it's the younger one who responds — success! — but not with speech, just with lowered eyes and a shaken head.

Celeborn sighs. "Well, I need to call you something. I can…" How is he going to do this? "I can go through a list of names, and you can nod when I get to one you like."

This could take a while. Celeborn mentally checks his schedule and, assured that he isn't doing anything with the rest of his night, starts listing.

The older of The Boys has been named Orophin. The younger is Rúmil. It took an hour and a half to find names for the two of them, and another to coax them into trusting some food. They still won't speak out loud, and Celeborn's starting to worry that their vocal cords are damaged.

He wonders for a moment why he didn't get somebody else to do this.

He knows the answer.

He didn't get somebody else to do this because they were elves lost and hungry in a human city, and elves look out for their own. Because he misses Brí, now that she lives in Imladris, and they were someone that he could take care of. Because Orophin looked up at him and all he could see was golden hair and shining eyes, and for a moment the starving child on the streets looked just like Thranduil.

He doesn't admit it, not to anybody else. He barely even admits it to himself. But he knows.

"Something is wrong."

It's very clearly Not A Question. Celeborn phrased it that way on purpose.

"Nothing is wrong."

It's also not a question. But the inflection is such that it is far from certain.

Celeborn reaches out, but doesn't touch him. "Something is wrong," he repeats. "Tell me."

Thranduil's eyes flutter shut. "I can't."

Celeborn's hand shakes, nearly imperceptibly. He doesn't remove it. His friend needs him.

"I can't do this. I can't rule a kingdom." Thranduil takes a deep, shuddering breath and continues. "I have hundreds of people whose lives are in my hands. And not ten years ago, I thought it would be a good idea to domesticate giant spiders."

Celeborn's first thought is: Seriously?

But that just proves Thranduil's point, he supposes.

"Not all of your ideas are going to be good ones," he says, and pauses. What on Arda is he going to say? "But you have ideas, and some will work. As for the ones that won't — you have Galion, who is quite possibly the most sensible elf I've ever known. You don't have to be sensible with him." It's probably in everybody's best interest if he isn't, in fact, but Celeborn doesn't say that.

Thranduil doesn't react, or at least, he doesn't seem to. Celeborn leaves him alone for now; Thranduil has never liked people seeing him cry.

Orophin and Rúmil have started to trust palace food, or perhaps their hunger has finally won out.

Either way they're eating enough that Celeborn can no longer count their ribs. He thanks Eönwë and gives them as much food as they want.

Thranduil is acting odd again the next day, by which Celeborn means that most people would consider his behavior normal.

He's starting to get seriously worried.

It's a coincidence when they meet in the hallway, but a well-timed one.

Thranduil's muscles tense when Celeborn's arms wrap around his waist, large hands settling in the space between his shoulderblades.

"You don't have to do this alone," Celeborn whispers, and Thranduil relaxes into his touch, giving up the act that he doesn't need the comfort; Celeborn is suddenly holding up 95 pounds of crying elf, and he's not really sure what he's supposed to do.

He's held axes heavier than Thranduil, and carrying the elf back to his rooms is simple. Orophin and Rúmil will ask questions, but he doesn't think about that now.

Thranduil has so much light in him. It's dimmed now, but it's still there, still shining.

Celeborn never wants to find out what it would take to extinguish that light.


	4. Only Shooting Stars 1

Gimli thought he was prepared. He thought that Glóin and Dwalin's warnings, all the stories he'd been told, were enough that he'd know what to expect. He thought that whatever came at him, he could handle it.

Sweet bloody Mahal, was he wrong.

It wasn't the elves. He hated to admit that, but it was true. It was not the elves, or at least, it wasn't the elves of Rivendell in general.

The majority had been polite and friendly, for treeshaggers. A few had been impatient and distant, but that was to be expected from any group.

And then, there was this one. The Elvenking's spawn. If the elf wasn't — well — an elf, Gimli might think he was being sincere. As it stands, Gimli has mentally filed Thranduil's son as a skilled manipulator who is not to be trusted.

The elf turns at that as if he's reading Gimli's mind, red-blond hair swirling over his shoulders. He smiles, eyes shining, and Gimli hates how bright it is.

Clearly not to be trusted.


	5. Only Shooting Stars 2

Legolas misses home.

They knew they would, but that doesn't help anything, really. It does help that Estel — no, Aragorn, and they still can't get used to calling him that, is there with them. It's nice to have a familiar face around, even if they don't know the Ranger as well as they'd like. The hobbits help too; they remind them of Thranduil, but more importantly, the four of them press Legolas for stories so often that they're forced to think of other things.

Oddly enough, so does Gimli. The dwarf — Legolas is carefully avoiding pronouns, even in their head, until they can ask which ones Gimli prefers — is staring at Legolas like they've just eaten a kitten.

Legolas follows that train of thought for a few moments (where did they find a kitten? Why did they eat it? It's not like the food is running out. Perhaps it was an evil kitten, and they'd had no other option. But then why is Gimli glaring at them for eating it? Maybe Gimli doesn't think a kitten can be evil. Silly Gimli, all cats are evil, didn't you know that?) but they're forced back into the real world when Boromir starts talking rather more loudly than is strictly necessary about how much danger his home of Minas Tirith is in right now. As if the whole world won't be in danger if this quest fails.

Legolas closes their eyes and ignores him.

But Eru, what they wouldn't give for some news of home.


	6. Only Shooting Stars 3

Legolas hates caves. Always has, always will.

They don't know why they hate them so much, and they don't know why the palace of Mirkwood doesn't seem to count. Their best guess is that it's well-lit and lived-in, but they don't know.

They do know why they don't like Moria specifically: It's dark and damp, and the air is stale, and they can hear the creaking of Durin's Bane (and sweet Eru, that voice makes their stomach twist in what would be paranoia if it weren't justified), and it's been sixty years but death lingers like the carvings in the stone walls.

Gimli loves it here. Legolas wishes they could too.

It is now so dark that even Legolas can barely see.

They called it nerves an hour ago. Now, they'll admit that they're terrified.

(Gimli is still perfectly confident. Legolas stays near the dwarf, acting as calm as they can. Gimli acts as a pillar of strength, just as they hoped — but the churning in their stomach doesn't go away.)

In a way, they're almost grateful for the Orcs and the cave troll. Paranoia is a subtle, creeping thing, and the adrenaline from fighting flushes it out better than reassurance ever could.

Then the Fellowship finds the tomb of one of Gimli's family, and they stop being grateful.

They knew it was bad, but they didn't know it was this bad.

The Fellowship is surrounded by orcs. Tear tracks coat Gimli's face, soaking into his beard, and Legolas doesn't hear what he screams but the battle is rough and clear and fast and they don't need to.

And then they reach the Bridge, and Legolas's worst nightmares take shape.

Gandalf is dead. Legolas knows this, in their head, but is still vaguely shocked.

The hobbits are crying. They think, absently, that they should do something about that. Nothing suggests itself.

They keep Gimli within eyeshot at all times. Maybe they can absorb a bit of his strength.


	7. Only Shooting Stars 4

Lothlórien is meant to be a place of calm and peace. Even so, Gimli cannot find rest here, cannot feel safe.

He doesn't like Haldir. Legolas seems to, but Gimli doesn't. He doesn't like how dismissive the elf is, he doesn't like the way that he and Legolas speak to each other in quiet Sindarin, he doesn't like how Legolas's cheeks flushed pink at Haldir's whisper when he tightened the blindfold, he doesn't like how Haldir's brothers are eerily silent except for their footsteps, and he definitely doesn't like being blindfolded and led by a rope.

Lothlórien is meant to be a place of beauty, but if there is any beauty here, Gimli cannot see it, and he hates the place.

/

When the blindfolds are taken off, Gimli can see the beauty if the Golden Wood, and he knows instantly why Legolas wanted to journey here.

He turns to share his joy with Legolas, but the elf is gone, along with one of Haldir's silent brothers. Gimli isn't sure why he's so crestfallen.

Legolas isn't his.

He isn't.

And Gimli has no right to be disappointed that he'd rather spend time with his own friends.


	8. Only Shooting Stars 5

Lothlórien is beautiful. Legolas has been here before, but they're still amazed by the place.

The blindfolds are new, though, and they wish they could talk with Orophin and Rúmil, rather than just to them; they're fairly sure Rúmil feels the same way, but they can't tell with Orophin. (They never really can.) It's new being led by a rope with their eyes closed, but they trust Haldir and his brothers. They'd walk the world for these three.

Gimli is in front of them. Legolas doesn't know why they're so conscious of his presence, but they don't question it.

/

When Orophin removes their blindfold, the beauty of Lothlórien hits them like it never has in the past.

Almost immediately Rúmil starts speaking in sign language, •follow me,• and Legolas does. •I missed talking to you,• he says.

"Me too." It was the main thing they hated about the blindfolds, once they all had them.

•Not just the blindfolds,• Rúmil signs, like he read Legolas's mind. •It's been too long.•

Now that Rúmil mentions it, Legolas can't remember the last time they went this long without speaking. "You're right," they say. Rúmil nods, and keep signing.

/

When they go back to the clearing where the Fellowship are sleeping, Gimli seems… they're not sure what he seems. Upset, perhaps.

They wonder why.


	9. Only Shooting Stars 6

"I know you don't like me much." Haldir sits down next to him. "And I completely understand. If I were you I probably wouldn't like me either."

Gimli looks up at the elf. He doesn't speak. He doesn't need to.

"But you're interested in Legolas," Haldir continues, "and so, as their friend and quasi-brother it is my duty to inform you that if you hurt them, I will eviscerate you and then hang you by your own intestines."

_What?_

"Now, that probably didn't do much to endear me to you, but it needed to be said. Good day."

And Haldir stands, and he leaves.

Gimli is left sitting there, waiting for Legolas to return from his explorations of the forest.

/

Legolas returns twenty minutes later, and now that his interest has been pointed out, Gimli is more aware than ever of just how beautiful the elf is. (He was aware of that before, of course. Dwarves always see beauty. It's just that now he's aware of being aware of it, and of all the implications that carries.) His — _their_ — hair is honey blond compared to his own, but flaming red next to Orophin, and their smile is possibly the brightest thing Gimli's ever seen.

Sweet bloody Mahal. Haldir was right. Well, mostly.

He's not just interested in Legolas.

He he thinks he might love them.


	10. Only Shooting Stars 7

Gimli is looking at them strangely, and Haldir is smirking.

Legolas's first thought is, Please don't have done anything stupid, Dir.

Their second thought is, He did something stupid.

•I'll help you run damage control,• Orophin offers. Legolas nods quickly.

Fuck. What did Haldir do?

/

Gimli is avoiding them.

Legolas wants to strangle Haldir right now. But they don't.

/

•Haldir apparently gave Gimli the Battleaxe Talk. That's all he'll tell me, and Rúmil doesn't know anything more.•

(It takes Legolas a moment to remember what that is, but then they recall how Celeborn threatened their father with an axe if he ever hurt Thranduil. Galion hasn't really been comfortable around Celeborn since.)

"But we aren't…"

Orophin shrugs.

Legolas really wants to strangle Haldir right now.


	11. Only Shooting Stars 8

They're back on the road again.

After two days it becomes almost physically painful, but Gimli doesn't say a word to Legolas about how he feels.

Haldir's voice rings loud in his ears: _If you hurt them… _

And so he keeps quiet.

/

After four days, Legolas gives up trying to talk to Gimli.

They curl up near Estel at night and press closer to him in their sleep. He doesn't say anything, but he knows how much Legolas needs the contact and familiarity.

"Something is wrong," he says in a low voice on day seven, but Legolas shakes their head.

"It's nothing," they say, and Estel doesn't press the matter.

/

Legolas spends all of his — their — time near Aragorn. Gimli can't find it in his heart to hate the Man, but he thinks Haldir might have his hands too full of crying elf to kill the King of Gondor after he marries Arwen.

(Gimli was an idiot to think he ever had a chance. Legolas is so out of his league that Gimli would laugh if it didn't hurt so much — they're graceful, beautiful Elven royalty, and would ever fall for a dwarf, however noble.)

/

As Gimli grows more and more distant, Legolas finds themselves clinging ever harder to Estel's steady presence. He knows something is wrong, but he doesn't offer anything but support and soothing nonsense whispered in the middle if the night. Legolas couldn't be more grateful; they don't think they could take advice or criticism right now.

(Haldir must have been wrong, or Gimli would have said something by now — and now their friendship is in tatters too.)

(They don't know why they expected anything different. They have met people who prefer men and women both, but Legolas has yet to meet anyone who could fall for someone who is neither.)

/

It hurts more than anything he could have previously imagined, but Gimli stays silent and lets Legolas have their happiness.

/

It hurts more than anything they could have previously imagined, but Legolas stays silent and clings to the one bit of warmth they have on this journey and doesn't dare hope for more.


	12. Only Shooting Stars 9

Boromir is dead. The hobbits have left, or been taken. The Fellowship is broken.

And Legolas runs.

(Their only motivation is to save the hobbits. It is completely coincidental that pushing their body harder and faster without rest shoves away what threatens to consume their heart.)

/

Boromir and Gandalf are dead. Pippin and Merry have been captured by Orcs. Fro do and Sam have gone off to Mordor alone; Gimli can do nothing for them now but pray.

But Merry and Pippin may still be saved.

And so Gimli runs.

/

Forty-five leagues in three days, and they are in Rohan.

"Were you not so close to the ground, I would cleave your head from your shoulders," says a painfully calm voice, and Legolas says the first thing that comes out of their mouth.

"You would die before your stroke fell," they hiss, and there's an arrow at the ready before the last syllable leaves their lips.

No one threatens Gimli. They don't care about the consequences.

Gimli is staring at them, shocked, and after a few seconds they put the bow down. But the message still stands.

/

Why had they done that? Gimli wonders.

He could have taken care of himself, and Legolas knows it. And even then it wasn't worth offending someone as important as Éomer over.

But Legolas had done it anyway.

Why?

Maybe…

No. No. Definitely not.

Gimli won't let himself hope. Not again, not after those last two weeks. Those last two weeks were bad enough the first time; he won't relive them.

(But he hopes anyway. He can't stop it.)

(He doesn't really want to.)


	13. Only Shooting Stars 10

In Rohan, the Three Hunters stay for a few nights. Legolas wishes they could share a room with Estel, but instead they share with Gimli.

He won't talk to them, except to ask who will take the bed. Legolas instantly offers to sleep on the floor; as a guard of Mirkwood they're more than used to it. Gimli doesn't argue. They almost wish he would.

The first night is calm and quiet, if somewhat lonely.

Legolas is used to that too.

/

They find themselves missing Mirkwood more than ever.

Galion would have exactly the right thing to say, to make them feel better and point them in the right direction. Thranduil might not be quite so good with words as his husband and adviser, but even just a hug and any kind of conversation sound wonderful to Legolas at the moment.

They miss Lothlórien too. What would Orophin say, if xe could see them? Legolas doesn't know but wishes they did; Orophin's advice is as good as Galion's, if a bit more ruthless. They do know what Rúmil would say: •If he doesn't love you back he's not worth pining over, want to go find someone who is?• Haldir would offer a shoulder to cry on and a warm embrace, and Celeborn would offer a well-wielded axe and a smile.

Legolas blinks back unexpected tears, curls up closer, pulls the blankets over their head like they're an elfling, and tries to get some sleep.


	14. Only Shooting Stars 11

When Gimli opens his eyes the next morning, Legolas is already awake.

"Good morning," he says, a little stiffly, and the elf turns away from the window to face him.

"Good morn," they agree, voice soft like they don't want to intrude. Gimli sits down on the windowsill next to Legolas, and the sit in silence for around five minutes before Legolas speaks again.

"I can't do this."

Gimli looks up, startled by the shattered silence. "Can't do what?"

"This," and there's an intensity to Legolas's tone that Gimli hasn't heard there before. "This thing we're doing, where we don't speak to each other and both of us is hurting but neither of us will just talk about it. I'm sorry, I can't do it."

They take a deep breath, and it looks for a moment like the two of them are about to fall back into silence.

"I don't know what Haldir said to you in Lothlórien," Legolas tells him, calm again, and meets his eyes. "But — could we be friends again, at least?"

Their eyes are wide, and the hurt on their features is so clear that Gimli couldn't say no if he wanted to. Not that he does, of course.

"Of course," he says, "but I thought you didn't want to be?"

Legolas shakes their head. "You started avoiding me," they say. "I didn't know why."

Gimli reaches for their hand, and they sit together by the window for another hour.

He might not have a chance with love, but friendship at least is within Gimli's grasp.


	15. Only Shooting Stars 12

They and Gimli are friends again.

Legolas holds onto that fact with all their might.

It's all they have. They don't let themselves think that it might not be enough.

No, not that they don't let themselves think it. It just isn't true.

His friendship is enough. It is.

(They're a liar and they know it. But they can't admit the truth.)

(Not to themselves, and certainly not to Gimli.)


	16. Only Shooting Stars 13

Somehow they manage to keep going, in a complicated dance of "he doesn't like me that way, I'll keep quiet" and "what the fuck was I thinking, agreeing to this?" and "at least we're friends, I can't ask for more than that" until the end of the Battle of Helm's Deep, but at that point Gimli breaks step.

Later, he'll look back on it and laugh, but at the time it's a real risk.

Legolas seems to react fairly well, though, when Gimli drags them down by the hair and kisses them.

/

"We're such idiots."

Legolas is correct, and they both know it.

"We are," Gimli agrees, and shifts closer to his — his, and he still can't get over that — elf.

"Remind me to punch my older brother when I next see him," Legolas says, and it takes Gimli a moment to realize they're referring to Haldir.

He smiles. "Will do."

It's hardly a fairy-tale happy ever after, not because it isn't happy (if Gimli was any happier he might burst) but because it just isn't grand enough.

But that fits the two of them. Legolas isn't some fairy-tale elf, they're a mostly normal person, and Gimli isn't some fairy-tale hero, he's an even more normal person.

And in the end, who really needs a happy ever after?


	17. Grey

The stranger's face is hidden beneath the hood of his grey cloak, and he barely speaks.

Saelbeth walks beside him — them, he supposes, as he hasn't asked — matching them step for step. The familiarity between the stranger and Mirkwood would be unnerving, if it didn't confirm his suspicions.

"Why do you conceal your identity?" Saelbeth asks, his voice pitched so that it won't carry.

He can't see it, of course, but he's fairly certain that the stranger is smiling. "My return won't have as much impact if I'm announced."

And yes, enough is familiar now: the gait, the height and build, the knowledge of Mirkwood's quirks, and the sense of humor.

"I defer to you then, Prince Legolas."

Legolas laughs, and keeps walking.

/

It's been eighteen months now, almost nineteen, and Legolas is still not home.

The war ended six months ago, almost seven, and Legolas is still not home.

He was afraid for his child the moment they left for Imladris. Now, Thranduil is terrified.

/

When Saelbeth steps into his study, Thranduil would consider it a welcome break from work and worrying — if it weren't for the news he brings.

"Our patrol met a messenger, my Lord. They say they have news if Legolas."

This will be the one.

A knot ties itself in the pit of his stomach, and he feels like he's going to be sick.

This will be the one who tells me, Legolas is dead. Which of Galion's nightmares was correct, I wonder?

"Send them in," Thranduil says, and braces himself for the worst.

/

The messenger conceals themselves beneath a soft grey cloak.

"I bring news of your child," they say, in a gravelly voice that has to be affected. Thranduil is surprised they got Legolas's gender (or lack of such) correct; most outside of Mirkwood don't.

Thranduil raises one eyebrow, the sick feeling in his stomach getting worse. "Show your face," he says, sounding calmer than he feels.

The stranger nods once and pushes down the hood —

— and Legolas stands before him.

Legolas is alive, and safe, and hale and whole and home.

They smile, a soft thing that Thranduil recognizes instantly. "Well, I'm back," they say, and for him the world is right again.


End file.
